


Power Pals: Children of Tomorrow -prologue-

by KPenDragon



Series: Power Pals: Children of Tomorrow [1]
Category: Fairly OddParents
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, F/M, Gen, Justice League: Gods and Monsters - Freeform, M/M, Superverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-08
Updated: 2015-09-14
Packaged: 2018-04-19 16:28:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4753151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KPenDragon/pseuds/KPenDragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In an alternate universe, the Power Pals are not the cheesy group of super friends, or the rag tag bunch of heroes we all know and love. This group are much more dangerous than that; they are a group of angsty teenagers with super powers.</p><p>This prologue is meant to introduce you to the characters and the world as it is, before the full story begins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Super Tim

The city of New Chincinnati, named such after the city was destroyed nearly a decade before in a great super battle, and rebuilt from the ground up. Since then, the city itself had become well known for attracting what one would call “super villains”, leading to S.T.A.G.E. Labs setting up their base complex of operations just outside the city’s limits; debates often ensued over whether their presence was protecting the city from attacks, or actually encouraging them more. NC-ers were well known for their ever lasting memories; never forget, never forgive, especially when it came to the “Supers”.

Today was one of those days. Downtown in the center of Town Square, a large dome-like entity had appeared hours ago. Magnetic interference and EMP waves had been emanating from it at regular intervals, mostly accompanying a growth increase in its max diameter. Power was down in a five block radius from the site, and all wireless signals were scrambled or completely cut off. The local precincts were attempting to contain the area, keep the civilians out, but after four hours and 12 feet of growth every 15 minutes, they had no way to stop it.

S.T.A.G.E. vans had arrived an hour into the blockade, setting up a mobile lab, but at this rate they weren’t coming up with much of a solution either.

“Alright folks, timer’s giving us 10 seconds, cover the tech!”

Lead drapes were pulled over any and all viable equipment just before there was a loud snap in the air and any unprotected electrical devise sparked and shorted out. There was another 10 second pause before the order was sounded to go check the bubble’s growth.

“So how we looking Commissioner?”

The graying police chief turned away from the roped off area and found the Lab’s representative stepping out of the tent, an 18 year old girl in glasses and a short bobbed ponytail.

“Ms. Tang,” he huffed, turning back towards the sight; he didn’t think S.T.A.G.E. was taking this seriously if all they’d sent was a girl, “Looking like we’re headed for big trouble.”

“Commissioner please.”

“Well why don’t you tell me lil’ missy. You’re the one from the Lab, you tell me what we’re looking at and maybe we’ll both know, ‘cause at this point I got a big mess downtown and no clue how to contain it.”

She sighed, removing her glasses to pinch the bridge of her nose; Trisha Tang was used to having to deal with people like that, those who underestimated her abilities because of her age and sex, and the fact that her father was one of the heads of S.T.A.G.E. Labs, no one ever guessed she was actually as smart and as capable as she was. But that’s why she was usually appointed to the public relations sides of these types of situations, because she could deal with people like this.

“From what we’ve managed to discern from readings, we’re looking at a time distortion bubble. Something in its epicenter is creating an unstable temporal field, and unless it’s stopped, it will expand to consume the city.”

“So what you’re saying is we need to pop the bubble.”

“But it’s not that simple. We can’t tell what frame of time is happening in there, not to mention the sheer amount of electrical charge on the outside of the dome is enough to fry and elephant’s neurological and cardiac systems, I’d hate to see what it’d do to a person.”

“So we need to pop the bubble, but we can’t send anyone into do it.”

“Basically yes.”

“Perfect, just perfect,” the older man huffed, “So what, your people just sitting on their thumbs in that fancy tent of yours, waiting for the inevitable then while we all get to suffer.”

“I assure you Commissioner, we’re doing everything we can to try to eliminate the problem, looking onto every possible avenue, every option-”

“Well it ain’t good enough! You Lab folks think you’re so high and mighty, playing with all us simple folks, using your science and your pet Supers…where is your prize show dog anyways, why haven’t you called him in to clean up your mess like usual?”

Before Trisha could open her mouth to respond there was another snap in the air that startled everyone.

“What was that?!”

“I don’t know,” she looked to the counter on her wrist watch, “My timer says we should still have a good 11 minutes before the bubble expands again.”

“Sorry about that.”

Both looked up as a voice spoke over head; a black and red clad figure descended from the sky, landing in front of the two of them. He flashed a bit of a dorky grin as he blew dirty blonde bangs out of his face as he struck a pose.

“Trish, Commish, nice to see the two of you.”

The older man just huffed, crossing his arms with a glare.

“Tim, how nice of you to finally join us,” Trisha said, “I was starting to think you hadn’t gotten my message.”

“Sorry, had my phone set to vibrate, plus you know how spotty the Amazon can be for cell service.”

She just shook her head at that, hands going on her hips; like always the world was in crisis mode, and here was this dope flirting with her. “We have business here Tim.”

“Right, giant time bubble, I heard,” he motioned for her to lead the way, which she did; the two of them walking away from the grumpy old man who was far too happy to get rid of the teenagers, “So time field, expanding, battery in the center that need to get unplugged before it eats everything. That sums it all up?”

“Aside from the fact that if you try to walk across its line you’ll get fried.”

“Humans would you said.”

“I said _person_.”

“Human, person, pretty much synonymous these days.”

“Tim,” she grabbed his arm and pulled him back; he allowed her too even though it would have been so easy to just keep walking, “I’m serious, this is a time distortion, we are literally blind about what’s in there, and you’d be going in there blind without any chance of assistance from us.”

“Pft, you know I fly solo just fine.”

“Are you even listening to what I’m saying?”

“Of course I am Trish, I always listen to what you say,” he rest a hand on her shoulder as he gave a little smirk, “I just typically ignore most of it.”

“Idiot,” she looked and pulled away from his touch, “One of these days you’re going to get yourself killed.”

“Maybe, but I’m not planning that to be today,” he turned back towards the bubble, the smile sliding off his lips as he became more serious, “The battery’s in the center right.”

She looked to the bubble too, slipping in to standing beside him, “Logic would dictate that. We’ve estimated that the radius is just under 800 feet, it’s consumed 3 city blocks.”

“Think I can fly it?”

“It’s 1,500 feet high at the apex.”

“So it’d be faster to go straight in from the side,” he mulled that over for a few moments, debating his options, “Give me 10 minutes, then I’d start evacuating the city.”

“You think you’ll fail?”

“Of course not, I’m Super Tim,” he gave her a half smirk at that though; “There’s nothing I can’t handle.”

Trisha rolled her eyes at that, though she did smile; seeing him turn back towards the impending doom though, her smile faded away, “Give me a few minutes to get people clear, we have no idea how the dome will react when you try to penetrate it.”

He nodded, “Can do.”

She nodded in return before she turned to start heading back towards her tent to give the order.

“Hey Trish.”

She paused and looked back to him; he was looking over his shoulder at her.

“After all this, feel like getting some dinner?”

Of course, even when facing possible death, always the flirt.

“Come out alive, and we’ll see.”

He shot her a wink, “Now that’s a pretty good incentive to come back alive.”

She rolled her eyes and turned back to keep going forward. He looked back towards the bubble, closing his eyes, feeling the electromagnetic pulses coming from the dome, sensing the static crackling in the charged air. Another expansion wave was coming, and if he could just time it right, maybe it would lessen the impact of breaking through. Officers and Lab agents pulled back, leaving him plenty of space. The charge in the air grew stronger, the tension about ready to snap. As the loud crack came, his eyes snapped open and he sped off into the bubble; his dark form cut through the side like a bullet; he was gone in a blink of an eye, but the shockwave afterwards was rougher and louder, everyone taking notice.

“What in the blazes was that?!” the Commissioner called out.

“I need stats immediately, take new readings, make sure the dome isn’t destabilizing!” Trisha called out to her people.

“Agent Tang!”

She turned to the older man then glanced at the sparking bubble, “He’s made it in. I just hope he can do it.”

Inside the bubble though was an entirely different story. As he cut through the outer membrane, every nerve ending and synapses in him felt like it was on fire; a thousand million tiny little flaming needles were cutting into his skin. But he pushed forward, he propelled himself forward; he needed to get to the center, he needed to stop this.

And then suddenly it stopped; it was like he burst through a wall with how different the air felt. In fact, it didn’t even feel like air at all; it all felt like dust. He finally realized he’d come through the outer shell, so she slowed down and took a visual stock of the surrounding area. He seemed to still be downtown in the city, but everything was grayed out and frozen…frozen in time. He moved carefully, avoiding gray people frozen in their places, cars stopped in mid-drive, even a dog petrified in the middle of marking a hydrant. Nothing was moving; he was the only one it seemed. 

Could he move them though he wondered? He attempted to reach out, to try to move this man in a crosswalk, but the moment his fingers touched them there was something akin to strong static shock. He pulled away quickly with a hiss, holding the hurt wrist, staring at his fingers as they faded from gray back into color.

“Ok note to self, don’t touch anything I guess.”

He moved even more carefully now, remaining hovering. He needed to find the center, find the source; take that out, and everyone should start moving again…at least in theory.

A sound of laughter caught his ear; if everyone was frozen in here, how could there be sound? He moved towards the sound, getting closer and closer to the center of the disturbance. As he got closer, music now accompanied the laughter, something like carnival music.

It was a park, the Town Center Park with the carousel. There were families and children all frozen around it, enjoying themselves, laughing, and waiting. But the carousel itself was moving, singing; the figures of children on it were still a gray but the machine itself moved. It was so weird; how could this one thing move while everything else was frozen…

He came over and landed on the floor of the carousel, figuring that since it was moving and in color it should be safe; no shock meant he was right. As he touched down the movement stopped, jerking him slightly; he was quick to look around, look for an operator.

“Well, well, well would you look at that…”

He looked around again, unable to tell where the voice was coming from; did frozen air bounce sound better or worse?

“My old nemesis comes to take away another family from me, aye?”

He cocked an eyebrow at that, “Do I know you…whoever you are?”

“Do not mock me Dinkleberg!!”

It sounded like lightning cracking overhead; he figured maybe it wouldn’t be smart to make the guy controlling this mad.

“Ok…guess I do,” he coughed slightly, still looking around, “Why don’t you step on out then so we can get reacquainted then buddy?”

“Buddy? Buddy?! I am not your buddy!!”

“Well it’d be a lot easier to know who you are if you came out and showed yourself.”

Dark laughter at that, “Oh you’d like that wouldn’t you _Dinkleberg_. It’s not bad enough to steal her but now you want to steal them too!!”

“Her? Them?”

“All these years…so many lost years…but now I can get them all back; I can get back what you stole from me!”

“Stole? What are you-Hey!”

Just as he was turning to check the other side of the carousel again, a spear-lance-staff thing came flying to pierce at his side. He was able to dodge it of course, flying up and out of the way, and high enough to watch an old man stumble and fall practically on his face from the missed strike. He really looked like some deranged escaped mental patient, fluffy pink bathrobe, a gallon water jug on his head cut up to be some sort of hat, and one cheap hospital flip flop with red spotted boxers on. But the staff…that seemed particularly off; it had something akin to a stopwatch at the top of it, while the whole thing was platinum; the clock’s face seemed cracked though, because it kept flashing and a few sparks came off at it.

“Get back down here Sheldon!” the older man cried, getting up and trying to wave him down, “You stop that flying and start playing fair!”

Sheldon? Dad? This guy knew his father?

“Look buddy, I think you’ve got me confused with someone else,” he started to float downwards, palms raised in a non-threatening gesture, “Why don’t we stop whatever it is you’re doing and sit down and have a nice chat about-stop that!”

As he got close enough, the man took another swing, which he of course dodged. This time the older man fell right off of the carousel, face planting on the ground below. Tim was fast back into the air though, noticing that the instant the weird old man was off the platform it started to freeze and turn gray.

“Ok, magic stick makes things work, got it.”

“Don’t…don’t think you can talk your way out of this one Sheldon, not this time,” he got back to his feet, using the staff to help prop himself up against cracking joints and aches from the falling, “You can’t use any of your fancy-schmancy college degree words to steal her away this time. I got the time now, I got everything.”

“Dude, I’m 15, I haven’t even started to think about college.”

“Haha there’s those fancy words again!” he started trying to swing at him, but of course Tim could easily dodge the wild throws, “You can’t confuse me anymore!”

He had hoped that he could just wait him out, let the old guy tire himself out then figure out what to do. But the more time he spent dodging, the more he started to wonder if since time was frozen in here that maybe what were minutes to him were hours outside; he knew he had a time limit for how long Trisha’s team could keep things under control outside the bubble’s edge, so was he really doing anyone any favors just sitting here letting this crazy guy vent?

“Look old man,” he finally had had enough, instead of dodging the last wild strike he caught the staff in one hand and held it firmly in place, “We really don’t have time for me to play 20 questions with you.”

He looked startled that the blonde had grabbed his staff and was staring him down quite seriously, if not a bit menacingly too.

“I don’t know what your problem with my dad was, but he’s dead. And if you don’t quit all of whatever this is, so are a lot of people in this city going to be too.”

“I…you…dad?” he seemed very confused, his eyes glossing over somewhat as his brain tried to think that through, “No Sheldon, you…but if you’re…then she…”

“I’m sorry but like I said, I don’t have the time for this,” he pulled the staff free from his grasp; the moment it left the man’s hold he froze in gray like everything else around, “There, now to figure out how to shut this thing off.”

He tried to examine the cracked watch head, but it just gave off a spark. The button on top seemed to do nothing other than make it spark more.

“Aw, screw it, what could possibly go wrong,” he focused his eyes on the watch face itself and used his heat vision.

Only seconds had ticked by on the outside; Trisha Tang had barely gotten back to a workstation as it was spewing out data when there was another crack in the air. She, like many others, ran out to see what had happened; they found that the large time bubble had disappeared and that the people trapped within it were all coming back around. Police moved in to council them, take statements, while Lab agents moved in with hand held Geiger counters to check for any abnormalities or radiation defects.

One figure stood out from the others; he moved forwards towards her, a body slung over his shoulder like a potato sack. She watched as he came up to her, that stupid grin of his in place.

“Miss me Trish?”

“You were only in there for a minute at the most.”

“Hu, felt longer,” he hefted down the body, an old man in a bathrobe and flipflops with his hands tied together and what was maybe a sock in his mouth, “I believe I can hand this off to you officers.”

A couple of cops nearby took the guy. She couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at that.

“That old guy caused all of this?”

“With a little help,” he then offered here the slightly melted time staff, “Look familiar?”

“I’m not sure,” she looked it over, trying to search her memory, “I’d have to check the Library. But if it is one of ours, how would he have gotten a hold of it?”

“Good question, especially considering,” he now produced a plastic like band, “He’s apparently crazy.”

She took it and read the words _New Chincinnati Mental Institution; Patient: Turner, D._

“And he knew my dad.”

She looked up at that; he was watching the officers take the old man away. Something seemed sad about him; in all the years she’d known Tim, he’d rarely spoken about his biological parents. She knew from his file that they’d died when he was 10, but they hadn’t met until he was 13, after he’d gotten his powers, and by then Super Sam was the “father” he always talked about and consulted.

“Also sorta odd.”

“What is?”

“My middle name, it’s Turner.”

She started to open her mouth to say something, but when she couldn’t think of anything, she just touches his arm in silence. After a beat he looked to her.

“How about we get that drink?”

He raised an eyebrow at that, “I thought we agreed to dinner.”

“I said we’d see,” she reminded him, “I’m offering you a drink.”

“Oh fine,” he feigned a sigh, as if this was such a drag on him, “But you’re buying. Your company doesn’t pay me enough to clean up after guys like this “Father Time” geek.”

“Oh great, you’re naming the villains again,” she teased.

“Well somebody has to,” he turned now as she started to walk away, slinging an arm around his shoulders so casually, “So your place or mine?”

“How about the Cake and Bacon on 25th street.”

“Boo, you’re no fun,” and yet he was still grinning, hiding the sadness from earlier deep in his eyes as the two young adults left what had been a site of potential mass destruction.


	2. Catman

Maudison. By day it was like any other city; high sky scrapers housing multi-million dollar companies, bustling business district, sequestered ghetto to keep the suburbanites safe from the gangs and street crime. But by night, the floodgates opened up and the rift raft came out, trolling the darkened streets. Crooks and criminals, at lest the honest kind who didn’t hide behind red tape in the light of day, they’d come to do their business; scaring smalls tore owners into paying for protection, peddling young girls and boys for a night of company, and handing out their drugs like candy. This was normal, this is what the members of the police force, those not corrupted and taking part in the dark side of the city that is, could handle it.

He was there to stop the things that were worse, the things that truly went bump in the night, the things that the police-good or bad-could not handle. That was what Catman had always been for Maudison, whether the inhabitants knew it, wanted it, or even cared.

He sat along the edge of the clock tower’s railing, looking down at all the people, the moving lights and honking horns of irate drunken city drivers. Sometimes he wondered why he even did this, why he did so much to protect these people who would most likely string him up in the town square for what he was if ever let them know…

_“Because you’re a bit of an idealistic fool that’s why Frank.”_

He shook hi head, leaning back; he’d been thinking aloud again hadn’t he? He tapped the hidden earpiece so he could speak to his mentor;

“Sorry, forgot about the mic.”

 _“Obviously,”_ the old man miles away in a mansion, watching news feeds and police scanners responded.

He was not the first to wear the mask of Catman, though many in the city didn’t notice or care much (save for an old police chief who’d been a plain officer when the old man was in action). He grew up with the stories his guardian had about his days protecting the city, and that was all he had ever wanted to do, to be. But now, some days…

_“Life just gets to you, I know Frank.”_

He really needed to stop thinking out loud.

“So, anything on the bands tonight?”

_“Just the usual minor stuff. A few domestic disturbances, I’ve got a B and E over by State Street, the makings of a bar fight over in the 2-1.”_

“Think I should turn in early for the night then?”

A snort came from over the comlink, _“You know those jerks that follow the 2-1 are useless.”_

“Have I really been reduced to breaking up public disturbances?”

 _“Hey, life isn’t always as glamorous as the Team makes it seem,”_ bitterness slipped into the old man’s voice more than usual, but he couldn’t fault him for it, he knew the old man’s story by heart. _“But hey, if you wanna call it a night then be my guest. You’re an adult; you can make your own choices.”_

“Yeah, I know,” he stood up and stretched, feeling a few tight joints pop back into their proper places, “I’ll come home in an hour or so, think I’ll run a sweep down by the docks just to be on the safe side.”

_“Fine, do whatever you want, just don’t come crying to me if you get shot with a canon.”_

“Oh haha, love you too.”

He heard the noncommittal grumble from the old man, then the click of the comlink going off on the other end. Good, he could use some alone time in his own head. He took to scaling down the side of the clock tower a ways, well practiced in doing so, plus his clawed gloves helped to dig into the bricks after all.

It was several blocks to the docks, but he could take his time running across rooftops, scaling scaffolding and fire escapes when he could. This city was his backyard, every since he could remember; there wasn’t any corner of it he didn’t know. So when he stopped midway across the top of a warehouse roof, it wasn’t because he was lost, but because there was something off. Lights started flickering in the building directly parallel to where he was standing, something in a very strobe-like patterning. He was about to tap his comlink, to send an alert back to the old man, when something came shooting out from the building, bursting through the roof in a large light burst, and then the building went ark, yet nothing physically came out.

“Well that’s not normal.” 

He leapt from the rooftop and landed squarely on his feet, waking the few feet towards the entrance to the other building. A quick slash had the chains on the door broken and he stepped into the darkened building. The place was indeed dark, though albeit brighter with the newly made skylight, not that he needed adequate lighting with the night vision his goggles provided.

Boxes upon boxes were stacked and stored, awaiting to be sent out by plane or boat he supposed. He slowly wound his way towards the center of the crate maze, towards the center of the hole in the ceiling, looking for what caused it. He reached it, looking up first to the new hole and the starry sky above, then down to the shards of splintered wood at his feet. A dark gloved boot toed through the brown wood, looking for any clues as to what it might have once housed that had so desperately wanted to escape.

“Hello, what have we got here.”

As he bent down to pick up something a flicker of silver caught the corner of his eye. He barrel rolled out of the way just as a shinny silver disc embedded into a crate at the level that his head was at just moments before. He heard the whistling in the air before he saw the next set of discs flying at him; he leapt away just as they cut deep into the stone flooring. He looked to the source, finding it to be what appeared to be a metal woman.

“A robot hu, interesting.”

The platinum woman didn’t respond, only shooting more of her laser discs at him. He easily avoided them, flipping and cart wheeling. He jumped into the air and, in one fluid motion, pulled and threw a series of small black cat-shaped blades at it; unfortunately the carbonate blades only scratched the platinum plating. The robot’s eyes now lit back up, a bright dangerous red as a laser focusing whine cut trough the silence.

“Oh that’s not good.”

A red dot targeted him between the eyes. He moved as the beam shot at him, and he kept moving as the dot followed him, but even he knew his cat-like reflexes would only hold out for so long.

“You know it’s usually the cat that follows the laser pointer, not the other way around,” he did one rather impressive back flip over a stack of crates as the laser cut through it and sent popcorn flying everywhere; who would ship a crate of unpopped popcorn?

As the kernels fell and flew around, the platinum woman moved forward, scanning, searching, looking. As it turned away from a stack of crates, a set of glowing eyes appeared in the dark before a set of claws reached out cut against the robot’s back panel. It spun around fast, trying to fire both laser and discs into the shadows, but they only found empty darkness as the target had already quickly moved off.

It scanned the shadows again, but he was three steps ahead of it the entire way. He moved across the tops of the crate walls, a black panther against the dark, circling its prey. When her back was to him he decided to make his move and leapt, intending to take another crack at that back panel; if he could get it open, he might be able to deactivate its systems. But he miscalculated, it knew he was coming; she spun around 180 on her waist and shot a half a dozen discs at him. He tried to twist out of the way of the majority of them while in mid air, but even he wasn’t flexible enough to avoid them all; he fell to the ground with a groan.

The android stepped closer, the disc launcher mounted to an arm still trained on him, same as the laser scope from its optics focusing dead on to his face.

“Come on,” he said under his breath, watching her with sharp intensity, “Just a little bit closer…”

But she stopped just two steps too short for him to reach her. The whine of the laser starting up was heard again.

He growled, “Just purrfect.”

But just as the laser was about to fire, some sort of projectile cut through the air soundlessly and attached itself to the robot’s chest. Before the laser was fully charged, the beeping beacon sent a sharp electrical pulse through the metallic frame, making it stumble back and the laser miss its mark. He took the opportunity to move away, looking up for the source of this new attack.

A figure was descending from the hole in the roof, very obvious suit coat flapping up as it came down. The mechanical woman must have had the same idea because as soon as the figure got closer, she attempted to shoot at it now instead. The form dodged it though, zipping through the air. The machine backed up, almost like it was afraid if this newcomer. It had good reason to though; a sonic blast came fourth from it, hitting the metal figure full on and short circuiting nearly every connection it its body. The platinum shell fell uselessly to the ground, only a haphazard spark or two emitting from it.

“You know I almost had her,” the new figure landed just as he got to his feet, “What are you even doing here Dev? And is it still “Dev”, or have you upgraded to “Hartson” finally? “Dev-Hartson”?”

It was a young desi man, only a few years younger than he was. He was dressed in what was probably a tailored suit, very obviously not meant for flying around the city. He was placing some sort of dart gun-probably what the thing that hit the robot first came from-back into a holster under his arm in his sleeve, before he moved to take down his ponytail only to put it back up to get rid of the wind sweapt appearance.

“You’re not funny West,” he responded back.

“No ring, guess it’s true he has commitment issues.”

“Will you stop.”

“Fine, business,” he stepped up beside him, “One of yours I take it,” he then produced the splinter of wood he’d been picking up in the beginning; it had the S.T.A.G.E. Labs logo burned on it, “Selling or buying?”

“I was in town for a conference when I got an alert,” he flashed a fancy pager-looking thing, “There was some rumors that some of our shelved tech had been going missing from the Vaults. We deactivated the Platinum Princess years ago, I have no idea how it got here or where it was going.”

“Platinum Princess, really? Were you five when you named it that?”

“Don’t you ever take anything seriously Fra-” he turned to glare at and scold the anti-hero, but instead he ended up coming face to face with him, actually nearly pressed right up against him, “-ank…”

“You look good Sanjay.”

He had to look up, the black clad hero being nearly a head taller than he was; his teal eyes tried to find some sort of emotion on his face, but the goggles and cowl were more of a mask than anything. They had known each other for only about three years, and they’d really only had conversations in passing. This Catman was not an official part of S.T.A.G.E., while he was a career legacy; Frank was a vigilante, while he was…

“Oh my you’re bleeding Frank!”

He looked down and sure enough, there were slashed along his left shoulder and arm where the platinum discs had gotten him; skin and blood were exposed.

“Hu, what do you know,” he half mused, then moved away quickly as brown fingers tried to touch him, “Don’t. You don’t want to loose your powers, and I don’t need you in my head again.”

Sanjay pulled back as he remembered the other’s mutation, yet he still looked away, “Wouldn’t be so bad to loose it, be easier than hiding it.”

“So you still haven’t told him,” he half scoffed, pulling out a stripe of fabric from a belt compartment to tie off his wound for the time being, “Now which one of you has the commitment issues.”

“It’s not that simple. You know how people are, what the stigma is attached to being a, a…”

“Freak,” he supplied, looking him dead in the eye, tone devoid and cold.

He looked away, shame radiating off of his person. “I was going to say mutant.”

“Like I said, freak,” he tied off the makeshift bandage, “Excuse me for being old fashioned, but I think if you’re going to devote over a decade to someone and intend to spend the rest of your life with them, they should love you for who you are, not what you pretend to be.”

“Says the man in the black spandex and mask.”

“Says the man who showed you his face, and has kept your little secret.”

He wanted to argue that, wanted to say something more, but the words dried up before they could even reach his tongue. They just stood there, close enough to touch but kept apart by things that were far stronger than a physical barrier. They just stared at each other, waiting, hoping that the other would make a move, any move, first.

A siren broke the thick silence, giving them a way out finally to release the building tension neither really wanted or knew how to escape.

“You call for backup?”

“Uh, well, yeah,” Sanjay looked away, rubbing the back of his neck a little, “I’m not exactly certified to take down something like this on my own after all.”

“Need me to stick around to help your cover?”

“Are you and the police on friendly terms now?”

He shrugged, “Not really.”

“I’ll manage. Thank you though.”

He nodded and started to head for the entrance, but before he stepped outside the ring of light from the opening above he looked back.

“Question though.”

Sanjay turned around, giving him his full attention.

“In town for a conference right?”

He nodded, “That’s right.”

“Were you going to give me a call while you were in town, or…”

The look away and the uneasy shifting of his stance was enough of an answer.

“I see. It was nice seeing you again Dev.”

“West, I,” but when the desi boy looked back up, the Catman was gone, “Frank…”

But he was already up on a high perch, watching as a couple of police cars arrived and officers went into the warehouse. It didn’t take long for them to come out, starting to move things, the desi boy leading and giving orders; no doubt an official S.T.A.G.E. van was enroot. There wasn’t much else he could do now, so he got up from his perch and winced slightly at the pain in his arm; he hissed though as a sharp voice pierced through his ear;

_“Frank something big’s going on in the warehouse district! Where have you been??”_

“Nice to hear from you too Adam,” he hissed, sliding down a rain pipe using his good arm, “It’s already been taken care of.”

_“And I missed it?”_

“What can I say old man,” he landed on the street and started walking, “You’re getting old.”


	3. Wondergal

Harrisburg wasn’t the largest city by far, but it had its charms and enough industry to keep it booming. It had been a fashion capitol back in the 50s, but now only a large cosmetics factory was about the only major company still in business. But it was enough to keep the inhabitants going, enough to keep drawing visitors, and had used to be enough to keep interest from super villains away too. That’s why S.T.A.G.E. had thought it to be a perfect place to set up Wondergal; they wanted to get her established as a legitimate hero in the public eye, and where better than a relatively quiet city. The city officials had been skeptical at first, but a monthly stipulation paid their way made it so the young woman could be their “official city hero”.

Not that she cared of course. She’d awoken from stasis on this planet about a year ago, and thus far hadn’t been impressed. The Lab had kept her quarantined for months, not wanting to risk exposing any of her “alien diseases” to Earth’s populous, and also to test the extent of her strengths; she’d impressed everyone of course. But her true skills she didn’t reveal, as she didn’t feel these primitives could handle her advanced technology. So when the chance to leave isolation and come “protect” Harrisburg was offered to her, of course she agreed; it got her out of the Lab and out of their clear view.

As she glided over the city-scape, returning from only she knew where, the computer in her belt buckle started to go off with an alert. She slowed her speed and hovered at practically eye level with the 23rd floor of some office building (the people inside the building noticed with awe, a few even taking out cell phones to snaps pictures to blow up Instagram with), and tapped it to bring up an infrared holographic display. It wasn’t a message from her handler-whether to return to base or to go out on another job-but instead it was her personal scanner, telling her it’d located one, it’d found a Wonderstone.

It took moments for her to find the location; she landed on street level as easily and effortlessly as if she’d merely stepped off the last edge of a staircase. A darkened restaurant stood before her on the outskirts of downtown; the sign above read _Bickles By the Bay_ in rather freshly painted letters.

“But we’re nowhere near a beach,” she mused aloud, then noticed the “CLOSED” sign before she pushed through it to open the door, “Ah.”

The light from the now opened doorway did little to illuminate the still restaurant. Cheesy beach themed decor painted every surface; somebody tried really hard to make this poorly thought out theme work in this landlocked location apparently. Her steps echoed softly in the still room as she walked around discarded tables and seashell shaped tables. The place seemed deserted…that would make her work both easier and harder; easier fore there’d be no one to challenge her for her prize, yet harder because now she’d have actually look for it.

She froze as she heard a crash come from the back kitchen area. She stilled her breath, focusing her hearing to catch what she’d missed upon entering. She couldn’t detect words, mostly like due to the stone’s interference, but she could tell four distinctive heartbeats. She carefully made her way towards the back, now not needing her super hearing to know what was going on.

The lights were on in the smallish kitchen setting, and three suited people sat tied and duck taped to some of those seashell chairs. One man was free, walking back and fourth, with arms crossed behind his back and a large chef’s knife ion one hand.

“For years I had a dream gentlemen and lady, a dream of opening my own seaside café and being a big city success. They said I was crazy; “You can’t have a seaside café in the city”, “That’s impossible”, “Jimmy you’re a worthless waste of space and will amount to nothing”, but I proved them all wrong!”

He spun around in a dramatic fashion, arms thrust out in grandiose display.

“They said I couldn’t build it but I did! I made my dream come true! Jim Bickles finally did something right!” his eyes darkened as he lunged forward at one of the bound men, the knife being plunged right into the seat of the chair just inches from the man’s crotch, “Until YOU took that away from me.”

He recoiled hissingly and went back to his pacing leaving the knife where it’d been embedded.

“Each of you are well known food critics, and each of you had such horrible nasty things to say about my food that it drove all my business away!”

His words and pacing started to get aster, more erratic; he was building up to something.

“You!” he pointed to the first man, with the knifed chair, “You called me tacky!”

The air was starting to become dry and heated.

“You!” now he pointed to the woman, “You said my food was all frozen even though I had a tank of fresh crabs that you very obviously saw me pull from to cook!!”

“And you!” he turned to the last man, eyes flashing bright and angry red, “You of all people had the nerve to say my food was overcooked, dry, and flavorless, even after I cooked you that special breakfast.”

His skin seemed to be glowing a very dull sheen as he stepped up to the third man, glowering intensely down at his held captive.

“What do you have to say for yourself,” he violently ripped the tape off of the man’s mouth.

The man just spat at him, despite the pain of having half of his wimpy mustache ripped off. “Your food is overcooked, especially the eggs.”

Bickles stepped back, wiping the spittle from his face with one hand while the other clenched into a tight fist. 

“I might have appreciated that last week, but we’re past foreplay now,” his eyes snapped open and they were burning red hot and glowing; his clenched fist similarly encasing in flames, “Let’s see how you like being overcooked!”

He didn’t even have to move closer to set the captive man on fire; he listed his fist, palm open now and just blew the flames at him. The fire stream was as strong as a flame thrower’s though, and the man screamed in agony as the flames engulfed him. The other two captives screamed in silence as they watched their compatriot fry alive. They tried to shuffle their chairs away from the roaring fire, lest they catch on fire too. Bickles just laughed at their antics.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get your turns.”

“I don’t think so!”

Before he could turn at the new voice, a red fist came flying at his chest and sent him flying back and even through the freezer door across the room. The captive critics started in fear as the dust settled, afraid of what new horror would be at them now. She just stepped forward, flexing the hand that she’d punched with. Not even a casual glance was spared at the burning corpse; there was nothing she could do for him. She made quick work of the woman’s ropes, letting her rip the tape off herself.

“Free him,” she nodded at the other man still alive, “Then get out and call the police.”

The woman nodded hastily and went to work on the knife guy’s ropes. She instead went towards the freezer; she still had the fire man to deal with.

Steam wafted from the ripped hole in metal. She pulled open the door fully, making the light turn on automatically, but instead of finding the guy she’d punched unto there, all she found were boxes of rapidly thawing fish. There was a knocked over pile that looked a little charred, so obviously he had landed in here, but there wasn’t any sign of a body. He couldn’t have slipped past her, could he? She glanced backwards as she heard the kitchen door swing shut; the critics had escaped. As she was about to look back into the freezer, a set of feet came dropping down from above the door frame and knocked her back into a prep table, causing it and her to fall to the floor in loud clattering.

Bickles dropped down to the floor squarely on his feet, heat radiating from him in intense waves.

“I learned that move when I was in the circus.”

She moved fast as she realized he was going to blast her with a fire steam; she flipped behind the knocked over prep table, letting the metal take the brunt of the heat full force. When it let up, she was fast on him, but he was just a tad faster. They matched blow for blow as she tried to take him down with something akin to jujitsu. As she went from sweeping kick, he ducked down and turned the movement into a fiery breath spray as he came back up. She spun away out of his grasp, only the edges of her cape and hair getting caught in the spray, and neither charring.

“Did I forget hat I was a fire dancer in the circus,” he cockily grinned.

She narrowed her eyes into dangerous slits; fine if harmlessly disarming wouldn’t work, she’d kick it up a notch then.

Their eyes both went to the knife in the now empty chair at the same time, similar ideas no bout going through their minds. They both lunged for it, but he had a longer reach. She hit him again, sending him spinning back into the stove, knocking over a pot of water. He hissed, feeling blood trickling from a split lip; when his eyes darted back up the kitchen door was swinging.

“You can’t hide from me girly!”

The stove erupted in shooting spires of fire at his touch, the spilled water rapidly bubbling, boiling, and hissing into steam as he stepped towards the dining room.

“This is my restaurant! Mine! And none of you can take that away from me!”

The dinning room was as empty as it had been for weeks though, nothing seemed undisturbed. He growled, regrasping his knife; she had to be here, there’s no where she could have gone without him knowing. This was his restaurant! His world! His dream! HIS!

A shuffle to his left caught hi off guard and he hastily threw a fire steam towards it, but only ended up scorching a very poorly painted mermaid poster in the process.

“Thank you.”

He tried to look up quick, but she dropped down on him, straddling his shoulders and causing him to fall to the ground face first.

“I was waiting for you to waste that.”

He tried to squirm, to shake her off, but she was heavier than she looked. She tried to grab his arms, to pin them behind his back forcibly, but he fought back, moving too much. His body temperature started to rise violently, super heating between her thighs. She actually hissed and rolled off of him, giving him enough leeway to roll into a crouch himself. The heat dropped from him, dangerously beyond the boiling point of any normal human should be able to sustain. She stood slowly, keeping here eyes locked on him, sharp and focused. 

“You can’t beat me you worthless little man,” she said flatly.

His anger flared at that, heat spiking even higher to match his temper. He lunged at her now, screaming in primal rage with the knife at the perfect stabbing height to be plunged deep into her chest. But as he connected, the stainless steel edge shattered upon impact; what more he realized his initial attacking momentum had been stopped by her hand, palm pressed out and just against his chest. It took a moment for it to really hit him; from the look of it her hand was just resting gently on his sternum, but the force she put into it matched to his own attacking momentum…it was only his rage cry that had covered the sound of splintering bones.

His eyes dulled from the burning fire and he coughed a little blood as he looked at her in shock and pain.

“But…but my dream…”

And he fell to the floor, the broken knife handle falling limply beside him as it slipped from his fingertips. She looked down at him, still that sharp and focused as she dusted off what remains of metal were still on her chest before she crouched down and started rifling through his pockets.

“It’s gotta be here somewhere…”

Just as the sirens came up outside on the street she found what she’d been drawn here for. She removed a gold chain from the man’s neck and stood up, examining the metal lacy-wire locket that housed a red gem in it. She walked out, easily sidestepping the police and firemen who were leaving their vehicles, bent on getting in there.

“There’s a man in the dinning area that could use medical attention, and one in the kitchen,” she half mindedly told a paramedic as they passed her.

She was on the outskirts of the police tape now, left alone because no one wanted to deal with her like always. She considered the pendant in her hands a bit longer, turning it around, trying to look for a way to remove the stone easily…

“So this is where you got off to.”

She crossed her arms, annoyed at the new voice; she didn’t even need to see the short blonde young man walk up beside her to know who it was.

“What are you doing here Remy?”

He just grinned, resting his hands atop the cane he carried, “I could ask you the same thing.”

“I’m doing my job. Apparently I’m the protector of the city, remember.”

“Of course I remember, one of the best decisions my money ever paid for.”

The Buxaplenty Corporation was a major contributor to S.T.A.G.E.’s projects, enough to own everything that the Tangs and shareholders didn’t; they also were the ones that own the cosmetic company that kept Harrisburg virtually going. Remy here was the sole living heir to the corporation, and although a board of trustees ran it until he was 18, he still had a very big say in how his money was spent, and sometimes he rather liked add his own “personal touch” to certain things.

“I was so upset last night when I’d heard you’d left the party early.”

She didn’t respond, really not feeling up to his baiting right now.

“I don’t know how it was on your planet, but in this culture it’s rather rude to just walk out on your date at a gala you know.”

“I wasn’t there as your date, I was there as an assignment.”

He just shook his head with that cheeky little smirk, “And who do you think gave you that assignment sweetheart?”

She now shot him a sharp angry look from the corner of her eye, finding only his dirty little smirk as an answer. He knew he’d pushed her buttons, just another nudge or two and maybe he’d finally see her break that calm exterior she put up for the world to see. This alien girl, trying so hard to prove she wasn’t human, that she was something more…something better. He loved to tear people like that down, no matter the cost.

“So what do you say, dinner at my place at 7? We both know you owe me.”

“I don’t owe you anything,” she bit back the hiss in her voice at that; she then turned away from him and started to walk off.

“And where do you think you’re going?” he called after her.

“To do my job,” she snapped back before she took to the air.

She left the crime scene below, not bothering to watch it shrink as she rose higher and higher, watch as the people carrying out the bodies became nothing more than ants. It didn’t matter, none of it mattered. Not the people, not the city, not even the blonde little rat that teased her so. All that mattered was the red stone held tightly and unnoticed in her hand. She knew she wouldn’t be expected back at base until the scene was cleared, whether it was recorded that she stayed for the clean up or not; that gave never just enough time to take care of the gemstone so no one would know…she couldn’t let them know…

On the outskirts of the city was an old abandoned mine, once used to harvest gemstones used in the city, now left empty and dead. She landed softly and walked along the familiar rail tracks, deeper into the mountainside. When she crossed a certain point, lights automatically flickered to life, revealing that there was a room of chrome inside this old time mine. It’d taken her months to build this, using what pieces of her crashed transport that she could sneak away from base; she needed this, she needed this little piece of herself to remind herself, to keep her focused on her true goals.

She walked over to a control panel and started typing on it a well known sequence. A vacuum tube came up directly to her right and she dropped the necklace into it; it was immediately sucked down and after a second the console gave a satisfied beep.

“That’s one step closer,” she sighed, pressing a slightly worn button and a picture of a goldish planet appeared on a screen at eye level, “Someday maybe we’ll get home.”

**Author's Note:**

> ** For those who may be confused: "Trisha Tang" is one of the genetic templates for "Trixie Tang" aka Wondergal/Star-Gal in the Prime!Superverse, but for all intensive purposes outside of narrative naming necessity, she is considered "Trixie Tang".


End file.
